It was but another instance of misplaced credit; it was the young ducks that those pious reptiles were so thankful for--whereas they were _my_ ducks.

I bought the ducks.
When a crop of young ducks, not yet quite old enough for the table but approaching that age, began to join the procession, and paddle around in the sluggish water, and give thanks--not to me--for that privilege, the snapping-turtles would suspend their songs of praise and slide off the logs and paddle along under the water and chew the feet of the young ducks.

Presently Patrick would notice that two or three of those little creatures were not moving about, but were apparently at anchor, and were not looking as thankful as they had been looking a short time before.

He early found out what that sign meant--a submerged snapping-turtle was taking his breakfast, and silently singing his gratitude.

Every day or two Patrick would rescue and fetch up a little duck with incomplete legs to stand upon--nothing left of their extremities but gnawed and bleeding stumps.